Colm Brady

The Prom is deemed elected

Prometheus Michael O’Reilly (Tiler) sat on his usual stool in McNamara’s bar contemplating his second pint. More to the point he was contemplating a possible third pint. His driver Naoise was reading the paper with the headline facing the bar. The young man had long since resigned himself that most of his work involved ferrying the Prom from where he was meant to be – at work - to this very spot. He was repeating exams in the University and this job suited both of them. The arrangement also suited McNamara who could estimate that a large part of his turnover was Prom-related.
“Look at that headline, bloody water wont be safe for months.” Said the Prom pointing to the paper. MacNamara looked up from his order sheets and took in the headline – WATER CRISIS IN GALWAY.
“Third world country, first world problem.”
Naoise smirked behind the paper.
“I think it’s the other way around.”
“Third world like yerman Mugby in Zimbabwe – he is an awful dose that lad, throwing all the farmers out of the place.”
“Mugabe”
“Like I said…anyway that Cryptoyoke isn’t going away I tell you” said MacNamara and went over to the phone. An older man with a collie dog entered, nodded and took a seat by the window.
“…Yeah and two cases of Red Bull thanks. Howiya Skipper, Smithwicks is it?”
Skipper Dunne nodded and the Prom pointed to his own change to indicate he would take care of it.
“ How are things in the auld neighbourhood Skipper?”
“Arah all right but cant find the lads who came looking for me vote. Did ye all vote gentlemen?”
The prom considered this for a moment.
“Well MacNamara had to vote for the lad that intervened about the licence, Naoise would lean to the left and I couldn’t forget the other lad about the planning for the extension.”
“Yerman with the head?”
“No the other fellah.”
“I went for the crowd that said they would up the pension. Then I wouldn’t have to buy that German dogfood for Banjax here.”
The dog lifted his chin from his outstretched paws and whined in appreciation.
Naoise stood up and faced his employer.
“We better get up to that job Prom, the contractor wants us out in Roscam early tomorrow.”
“Where are ye off to lads?” asked MacNamara pricking up his ears.
“You know Mrs Conneelly up in the top estate, well her. Bathroom needs re-tiling. Shocking religious Woman, said she would say a Novena if we do it today. Give us a black whitehead for the road and a Smithwicks for Skipper.”
“God bless you Prom.”
Naoise sat down in frustration and picked up the paper. Prom wasn’t worried – this battle was never-ending and he usually won.
“He only has the hump ‘cos he is meeting a bird tonight.”
“Good man Naoise are you doing a line then?” asked Skipper.
“The only line that student crowd do is out of a big bag of cocaine.”
“Ah Prom you were a bit of a bucko yourself around this estate back in the eighties.”
The Prom took a slug out of his pint indicating this part of the conversation was at an end.
“You would want to see him in the runner boots and Mullet hairdo. He even went to the Unisex place up the road.”
The Prom finished off the pint, slid off the stool in one smooth movement and headed for the door.
“See yis gents , come on young fellah, there’s work to be done.”

posted by Colm Brady @ 11:22 AM